Failed Logic
by poxmaker
Summary: The "New Neighbors" are moving away after two weeks of torturing the Wilkersons. But before they go, Josh has something he wants to say to Malcolm. One-sided slash. Oneshot.


**A/N**: Came up with this after seeing the episode "New Neighbors" twice in the same day. Why Josh would immediately act like a jerk to Malcolm made no sense to me, so after a bit of thinking, I came up with this. My reasoning for Josh's behavior seems pretty sound considering his age, but I'm not sure if I explained it well enough. I'm also afraid I made him sound older than he is. (This is a season two episode, so he and Malcolm are either twelve or thirteen--I made them the latter.) And yet another problem I had was the daggum tense. Dunno why I decided to write it in present tense, but thar ya go. So if it suddenly switches tenses for no reason, I'm sorry I missed it. Also, this is rated M because Malcolm has a potty mouth, which really can't be helped.

**WARNING**: As much as I'd rather not give anything away, I feel I must warn you that this fic contains one-sided slash. If you don't like this, then leave. It's that simple, and I will not tolerate getting a flame because you were too stupid to read both the warnings I've put up (the other being in the summary, which you must've read).

However, if you don't mind such things, then read on and enjoy! :D Oh, and yes, the POV is Malcolm's.

* * *

The past two weeks have been, quite possibly, the worst of my life. And considering how dismal my life is on average, I don't conclude that lightly. It seems as if that Josh kid has made it his personal goal in life to humiliate me as much as humanly possible. Not only did he make me look like a punk in front of my dad and tell the whole school I was a hermaphrodite, he actually went to the police—_the_ _police_—and told them that I peep in my neighbors' windows at night.

And those are just the things my _parents_ know about. He also pulled a chair out from under a girl I _like_ at lunch one day as I was passing by, and told her he saw _me_ do it—then he went as far as to tell the principal! I've had detention for the past three days!

He told Dewey their lawn gnome wanted to eat him; he threw a rock at a neighbor's car as I walked out my front door, and then immediately ducked behind the hedge that separates our properties; he broke down in the counselor's office at school, crying and screaming that I had molested him in his sleep (conveniently, after sneaking in through his bedroom window)—which, thankfully, the counselor didn't believe, but did speak to me about; and, as it turns out, it was him that told his sister Emily that if she were to bite into Reese hard enough, that Kool-Aid would squirt out of him.

So, needless to say, I'm not the only one that's beyond happy to see that God-forsaken family moving away from us. I honestly consider it a blessing from the universe that Reese and I jumped our backyard fence when we did—otherwise we might have had to put up with _them_ for the rest of our lives.

And boy, are we celebrating: Mom's in the kitchen blaring some 80s music that I've never heard before, baking _cookies_; Dewey's snuck away somewhere, and since that fugly gnome is missing as well, I can only guess that he's doing away with it; and Reese and I are standing in our front yard with the biggest grins on our faces that I'm positive have ever been there.

Reese is practically dancing in place as we watch the movers load up the moving truck parked at the curb. He's holding his hockey stick in one hand, because while the fucktards next door _are_ leaving, they're not actually gone yet, and Emily could be anywhere. He's swinging it around in glee, and he keeps just missing hitting me with it—on purpose, of course—but I ignore his obvious attempts to get a rise out of me. I have more important things to do than argue with him.

Josh has yet to appear outside, but when he does, I want to be there to gloat. And, to make it all the better, I've planned a little revenge: as soon as I see him go anywhere near the moving truck, I'm going to have Reese sneak around the other side and slice one of the rear tires. Then I'll gasp all dramatically and yell, "Josh, why did you just do that? These people do you a service, and you slash their tires? Why???"

It's seriously going to be PERFECT.

However, Josh is still in the house. He hasn't been out all day. Heck, come to think of it, I haven't seen _any_ of them today. Although I have heard Josh's parents _plenty_ over the past few nights. Their yelling's been keeping me up.

"Man, I wish they'd come out already," Reese practically reads my mind, and voices my thoughts out loud.

"I know," I say back. "What's taking them so long?"

Reese grins evilly. "Maybe Emily ate them all."

I roll my eyes at him. "Yeah _genius_, because movers are totally going to step around their corpses and move their stuff to that truck, as if nothing happened."

He looks at me as if _I'm_ the stupid one. "Hey, it's possible."

"Whatever you say Reese."

The side door of our house opens, and I turn to see Dad walk out. He's the most depressed I've seen him in a long time. In fact, he's the only one of us that _isn't_ happy to see the Neighbors from Hell moving away—he really hit it off with Josh's dad; they've been inseparable for the past two weeks. And when he heard his new best friend was moving...

I never want to see that look on my father again.

However, as much as I feel for him—and I really do—I figure his having to return to normal is an acceptable loss as compared to keeping the asswipes next door. Eventually he'll get over it, and eventually he'll make a new best friend that he'll practically go gay over. And then he'll lose him and the process'll repeat. So for normality's sake, it's an acceptable loss.

He walks over and stands next to me, not even noticing when Reese hits me in the back of the legs with his hockey stick, or when I punch him in the arm in revenge.

"So boys," he says glumly, "have they made an appearance yet?"

I look up at him, my happiness dampened a bit.

"Nah," I say. "We've been waiting for over an hour."

"I see." He nods. "Well, when they do finally show up, you'll let your old man know, won't you?"

I nod up at him, and he turns around and walks down the driveway to the garage, probably to listen to old music and reminisce about the past few weeks.

I feel really bad for him, almost to the point of saying something, but Josh could come out at any time. And besides, it's an acceptable loss...

And just like that, Josh walks out his front door.

Little warning signs go off in my head, but I ignore them and turn to give Reese the signal we'd planned on. But he's not there. Good, that means he's already sneaking around the truck.

I look back towards Josh to smirk and wave as I'd planned to, but... Whoa. Did I say that my dad looks depressed? Well Josh looks about ten times worse. His hands are shoved deep down in his pockets, his eyes are focused solely on his shoes, and he's shuffling more than he is walking. His hair isn't combed fully, only one of his shoes are tied, and, as far as I can tell, he's wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday in school.

I'm so taken aback by his appearance that I'm almost tempted to yell at Reese to not go through with the plan. But before that thought can even fully process, Josh does something else completely unexpected: instead of shuffling on to the moving truck like I thought he would, he instead shuffles towards _me_. I swear I'm ready to bolt, except...

He looks up at me as he passes the hedge and we make eye contact—and I'm instantly rooted to my spot on the pavement. Something in his eyes won't let me move... and are they a little red?

"Hi Malcolm," he says weakly, only keeping eye contact for about a second before his gaze shifts back to the pavement.

I stare at him, seriously feeling the urge to _run_, but my legs won't move. My mouth, on the other hand, never has a problem with running.

"Whoa! I DO NOT think so! You _aren't_ ruining today for me!"

He chuckles lowly and looks back up at me, avoiding looking me directly in the eye.

"I'm not here to get you into more trouble, Malcolm," he says.

Anger suddenly flares inside me—hot and seething and wanting to scream until I'm hoarse.

"Oh really?!" I yell. "What other possible reason could you have?" I point an accusing finger at him. "You've done nothing but make my life miserable since we met! You've lied and humiliated me, ruined my already fragile reputation with my neighbors, _and_ you sicked your sister on my brother! So tell me, Josh, why else would you decide to come over here?!"

He purses his lips to one side, probably thinking up a witty response.

"Well?"

He sighs and pulls his hands out of his pockets.

"You're right," he says, shrugging in what seems very much like a dejected manner. "I _have_ been terrible to you. And I understand if you hate me. Heck, that was plan..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" This is getting weirder, and that instinct to run is still gnawing away at me.

Josh takes a step forward (I only barely stay my ground) and gives me a very pained look.

"I didn't want to pull all that crap. Honestly I didn't. But I _had_ to. It was the only way to make sure you hated me."

"What??" I nearly spit at him. "Why the hell would you want me to hate you? We could've been friends! Hell, you could've been the one normal friend I have!"

He lets out a held breath.

"No, we couldn't have, Malcolm." He runs a hand through his hair, as if the situation is just too much for _him_. "Malcolm... the reason I humiliated you and made you look like a creep was because I... Because I like you."

My accusing finger is back up, and I'm about to make a witty comeback. He's the creep! He's the one that should be feeling humiliated and... Wait, what did he just say?

"...what?"

Not my most clever of responses.

He rubs the toe of his shoe into my driveway.

"I like you," he says, not even looking in my general direction now. "You're cute, y'know?"

Whoa... Okay, that was NOT what I was expecting him to say. And all I can really think is, how fucking childish _is_ this kid?

Likewise, all I can think to say is, "I'm straight."

He rolls his eyes at me, as if I've just said dumbest thing he's ever heard.

"Duh," he deadpans.

Okay, so maybe it was the dumbest thing he's ever heard.

"I know you're straight, Malcolm. That's why I had to make sure you hated me. We could've easily been friends, and I could've easily hid the fact that I liked you. But do you know how much that would've killed me?"

Y'know, I really don't know. Then again, do I care?

"So, instead, I made sure you'd stay as far away from me as possible. And hey, whaddya know, I made it so bad that we're actually _moving_ now. Plan worked better than I thought it would."

I still can't quite comprehend what Josh is saying. My mind is spinning faster than Mercury around the sun, yet I still don't understand his logic.

"So let me get this straight," I say, seeing and cherishing the hurt look that spreads across Josh's face at my word choice. "You made my life a LIVING HELL just so you could avoid telling me that you _like_ me?"

He looks immediately surprised, and starts to explain himself again.

"No, that's not—!"

"No, that's exactly it!" I yell. "You could have EASILY told me. Sure, I'd be creeped out, but I'd still understand! I'm not Reese—I wouldn't beat you up. But instead, now I'm afraid to walk out in public. Hell, I wouldn't even be out here if I wasn't so _fucking_ happy that you people are leaving! You are a serious douche, you know that?"

His expression changes from surprise to resignation in an istant.

"Yeah, I know," he says, hands finding their way back into his pockets. "I guess I'm just so used to doing it—been doing it for a while now."

"You have??" I yell incredulously.

"Oh yeah." He smirks. "I've perfected it, if you couldn't tell. Every time I like a guy, I make his life miserable. It's really the only way. Sure, you say I could've told you, but how was I supposed to know? It's easier to do it this way, instead of possibly getting my ass kicked. And believe me, I've come close to getting my ass kicked by cuties like yourself many times."

"You have?" I ask, still not entirely believing what I'm hearing. "You're only like, what, thirteen, aren't you?"

He smiles. "I was an early bloomer."

His expression suddenly becomes sad again, and again I'm ready to run. I really need to get that under control.

"But look, Malcolm," he says, taking another step forward, so that now he's right in front of me. "I'm really sorry. I know that it probably means nothing to you after all that I've done, but I really am. I can't imagine what it's been like for you. But, for what it's worth..."

He stops suddenly, and looks away. I can see the faintest hint of moisture beginning to form at the corner of his eyes. And just as suddenly, all my animosity towards him vanishes. I really do hate Josh, but how easy is it to hate someone that's crying?

Sometimes I really hate having a mother that actually instills values into me.

"Look man," I say, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure the neighbor's'll get over it sooner or later. And you might've ruined my chances with Cindy, but hey, there're plenty of other girls, right?"

He's still not looking at me, and I'm getting desperate.

"_Please_ don't cry," I beg.

He laughs and wipes at his eyes.

"I'm not gonna cry. Done plenty of that lately."

I frown, but leave my hand where it is.

"Parents?"

He shrugs, which tells me I can remove my hand.

"Part of it, yeah," he says. "But that's been in the works for a while. Mom's always sleeping with some guy or another. It's a wonder that all it took was you jumping the fence for Dad to find out."

All I can think to say is, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

The conversation falls flat at that. I can't think of a single thing to say, and Josh looks like _he's_ the one wanting to run now. This is going to get awkward, fast. I need to say _something_.

"Well, I hope you like your new..."

Before I can do anything to stop him, Josh's arms are around me. My entire body goes rigid. I'm not sure whether to scream, or punch him in the kidney and finally give into the urge to run. However, before either of these ideas come to fruition, he's already backing up and letting me go.

"I've gotta go," he says. "I meant it when I said I was sorry. I hope none of what I've done is permanent."

"Umm..." I say, unable to think clearly. "Uh, yeah. I'm sure it'll fine. Don't worry about it."

"If you say so." He starts walking away. "Well, see you around Malcolm."

Oh, I certainly hope not.

"Yeah... Later Josh."

He walks back around the hedge and into his own lawn, disappearing around the far corner of his former house.

I shake my head to try and clear the fog. It's really so unreal. Josh had been a dick to me simply because he was afraid to tell me he liked me? How could anyone be dumb enough to think like that?

Okay, I know what you're thinking. But Reese doesn't count. He's _naturally_ stupid.

Josh, on the other hand, _had_ to be at least moderately intelligent—he did think up some pretty fantastic lies. But still, his logic was flawed. It was child's reasoning. And while I'm only thirteen, I like to think that I don't see things from most other kids my age's perspective. I think on a higher level than them. Josh should have, too.

I walk back into my house, giving up on that plan for revenge. If Reese slashes one of those tires, I don't really care. He'll probably get his ass kicked by one of those huge-ass mover guys. Which he totally deserves, so all the better.

Mom's still baking her cookies and singing like no one else is in the house. Dewey's still nowhere in sight. I'm about to fall back onto the living room couch, but I remember that I was supposed to tell Dad when I sighted a member of that dickweed family. So I turn on my heel and walk back outside.

I catch a glimpse of Josh helping move boxes into the moving truck. He looks away quickly when he spots me. Then another of my neighbors walks past, sees me, and quickly walks back in the opposite direction. I'm suddenly reminded of the hell I've been through, but I just roll my eyes.

I seriously do hate that guy. I don't care how much he's cried, or the fact that his parents are splitting up. I've been through way too much crap over the past two weeks because of his failed logic.

And I am so glad he's moving.

* * *

**A/N**: I'm not entirely happy with this, but then again, when am I ever happy with something I write? XD

To be honest, the other reason I wrote this was because there are really no good slash pairings for this fandom. Linwood Boomer did a good job with that, didn't he? XD I'm extremely hesitant to slash the brothers, because while I don't mind incest, it goes completely against their characters. And, honestly, the only other person I can think of slashing Malcolm with is Stevie... but just no. So this was born--albeit it's not complete slash. Good enough for me, though.

Reviews are not necessarily necessary, but are appreciated. As are well-thought critiques, because improvement is my ultimate goal. Thanks for reading.


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